


Bleeding Out

by Merixcil



Series: Whumptober 2019 [23]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Hannibal's luck runs out first
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Whumptober 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838356
Kudos: 3





	Bleeding Out

“Hannibal?” His voice echoes louder than he’s entirely comfortable with through the trees, nervous and thin and all the things he’s tried to promise himself he won’t be anymore. You don’t get to survive a hundred foot drop off a cliff into the ocean and still be weak. Or at least, he shouldn’t have to. But here he is. 

The response he receives is filtered through ragged breathing. Close, but low. Coming from someone collapsed on the ground. “Will…here.”

The scariest thing of all, would be if he had to leave these woods alone. Will moves forward as quickly as he can, squinting through the dark and cursing whichever weather event saw fit to blot out the moon with such thick cloud cover. When he does finally find Hannibal, the hand he touches is so cold that for a second he thinks it’s just another stone. 

It would be funny, for him to be so undone, if this didn’t look so very much like this would be his undoing. Will’s heart jumps to his mouth, thumping louder than Hannibal’s thin, uneven breaths. “What happened?”

He immediately wishes he hadn’t asked. They don’t have time for this. They don’t tend to carry phones for security’s sake and they are at least two miles from the nearest road in a country where Will doesn’t speak the local language.

Hannibal does, but Hannibal seems to speak anything that he needs to speak.

“He stabbed me.” Hannibal rasps out. “He stabbed me, so I killed him.”

Not like Hannibal to kill in retribution. Not for his own sake at least. Will feels his right arm stretching up to a spot on his neck, doesn’t think about why the sleeve is so wet till his hand finds the wound, open and gushing too fast to plug, too hard to stop. 

“No.” Will hisses, his fingers slipping through the blood to twist in alongside Hannibal’s own. Pushing down, applying pressure. That’s what Alana would do. 

“I’m afraid so.” Hannibal replies, and though it’s too dark to be certain, Will knows the exact smirk he must be wearing. Like this is a mild inconvenience and not the end of the fucking world. 

Will breathes, Will sobs. This can’t possibly be happening. 

“Come now.” Hannibal admonishes, voice barely above a whisper. “You have to be smart about this, if you want to get home before sunrise.”

“I don’t understand.” Will tightens his grip around Hannibal, pulling him into his lap as far as he will fit. “How could he just…stab you?”

“You think it an unfitting end?”

“Fuck yes I think it an unfitting end!” Will barks, and hates the night and the empty landscape of Romania and how easy it would be to be found and how easy it would be to be left in the dark for all eternity.

“I think we can safely say that my luck ran out.” As if that’s an explanation. 

Will holds him, like Hannibal ever gave any indication that he needed someone to hold him to make things right. There have been books that suggested it, of course. That all it would take to fix this man would be a steady hand and a certain amount of physical affection. Idiots. You can only cure the sick, Hannibal just is. 

Just was, just slipping away. 

He is alone in the dark, and as his breathing finally evens out, Will starts to understand the monumental size of the shoes he has to fill. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'whumptober' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have


End file.
